Taken With The Enemy

by Tia Fanning

  "Did you want to say something, Brenna?"

  Shit! “No."

  "I love how you try to hide your desires, which leads me back to how expressive your eyes are. If you want me to kiss you, just ask."

  "I can't be that blunt—and I'm not saying that because I want you to kiss me."

  "Hm. Are you not the same woman who asked me if I was in love with her the other day?” When I didn't respond to that truth, he cocked his head. “I think you can be very candid when you want to be. Until you say otherwise, I want to keep my promise."

  Tease.

  I almost asked, but held back. I was a lady after all.

  We walked in silence for a while. The barren land was awash with dark gold, the setting sun sinking below the horizon, and the cloudless sky, shaded lavender, carried a warm desert breeze and the scent of sandalwood.

  "Should we try for dinner?” I offered. “I can cook this time."

  "As much as I would love to take you up on that offer, I still have to attend to some things. Would you be willing to do a midnight desert?"

  That erotic dream popped into my head again. “Sure. What should I make?"

  "No worries, I'll take care of it. When we get you back, rest for a while, and I'll wake you up when everything is ready."

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  Chapter Eighteen

  I shot up in my bed, with my breathing labored and a moan in my lips. Covering my eyes, I pressed firmly, trying to remove the last remnants of sleep. My pussy tingled in wanting.

  "I can't take these dreams anymore."

  It had been too long since I'd had sex, and my poor deprived body just couldn't handle the torture.

  Glancing over at the clock, I saw it was quarter to midnight.

  Fuck. I had to get cleaned up before he came.

  Jumping out of bed, I undressed as I ran to the bathroom for my third shower of the day.

  Unfortunately, the cold two minute shower did little to ease my body's raging desire.

  Rushing to finish getting ready, all I had left to do was moisturize and put on clothes. Unraveling my towel, I sat on the bed and squeezed a generous amount of lotion into my palm. Closing my eyes, I began rubbing the cold cream into my shoulders and arms, relishing in the way it glided across my heated skin and the feel of my fingers caressing my body.

  My nipples hardened and my core quivered. Why was I teasing myself?

  When I started rubbing my legs down, I thought I just might unravel. Succumbing to my body's demands for attention, I wiped my hands off on my towel and lay back on the bed, letting my fingers linger on the plump sensitive lips in-between my inner thighs.

  I probed further, gently massaging my swollen clit, but it wasn't enough to satisfy my cravings. My body was used to more stimulation. What I would give for one of my toys right now. I needed to come so bad.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  I jumped up, embarrassed all to hell. “Ah ... damn, hold on, I'm coming."

  Oh, God. If only...

  "Are you okay? You sound agitated."

  My hands shaking from nervousness and sexual frustration, I picked up my undergarments, fighting to get them arranged so I could slip them on properly. It was an unsuccessful attempt. I was too excited, too jittery, and too damn anxious to even complete the simplest of tasks.

  "Brenna?"

  In a huff, I threw the garments down and scolded myself for being such an idiot.

  "Do you want me to come back later?” he asked.

  Looking at the door, I was about to say ‘yes', but didn't.

  Why make him leave? Why not let him stay?

  "No,” I rushed. “Stay right where you are."

  I dreamt of him, I enjoyed being with him in my dreams, so why not make my dreams a reality? Now that I knew he wasn't my enemy, there was nothing holding me back except my own sexual inhibitions. I'd never had a one night stand before, but there was a first time for everything.

  For just one night, why couldn't I be the sexually confident woman that I was when I was alone with my vibrators and my over-active imagination?

  "Brenna?"

  "Don't move.” I ordered.

  I could do this. He wanted me. And we were both adults. And he said all I had to do was ask and I'd pretty much get anything I wanted if it was in his means. Why not ask him to help a gal out?

  No, no, no ... my lady-like sensibilities pleaded.

  Yes, yes, yes ... urged my inner vixen.

  What was the worse that would happen? He'd say no?

  Inner vixen scoffed ... Please. He's a man. That ain't gonna happen...

  He's different from other men. And he's your captor ... lady-like sensibility countered.

  "Sweetheart, what are you doing? Are you okay? Do you want me to come in?"

  Inner vixen bitch slapped lady-like sensibility and took over.

  I flung open the door, presenting myself in all my naked glory. “I was, um, masturbating. It's very healthy, you know. Good for the body. Relieves stress and all that,” I explained in a breathless rush.

  Okay, maybe I was a little more nervous than I anticipated.

  When he didn't say anything, I added, ‘I'd know. I'm a doctor."

  "Ah, I, ah...” He pointed behind him. “Uh, dessert is ... in there."

  "Okay.” Just ask him! “Um ... Would you like to fuck me first?"

  His jaw dropped open, but no words came out.

  "You said to ask for what I desired, so I am,” I hastened to clarify. “I'm being candid just like you wanted. You said you thought it was cute when I said the word ‘fuck'. So I'm asking you to fuck me. Do you want to or not?"

  He grinned. “Well, since you've asked so nicely—"

  Grabbing the front of his shirt, I yanked him in, closed the door, then slammed him against it, pressing my body into his as I did so.

  His lips suddenly captured mine with fierce intensity. Caught up in the animalistic passion, I clawed at his neck, simultaneously lifting on my tippy-toes while jerking him down, increasing the pressure and deepening the kiss. We stumbled backwards. His hands cupped my ass and hauled me up, forcing me to wrap my legs around him.

  He fell on top of me as we collapsed onto the bed, his weight pressing the course material of his pants into my swollen nether lips and causing the fabric of his shirt to rub against my nipples. I moaned as my body spiraled into sexual overdrive.

  As his lips roamed across my neck and shoulders, I worked at pulling his shirt off. With the thin barrier removed and tossed away, he descended lower, showering attention on my sensitized breasts. When his tongue swirled around the hard bud, my pussy clenched, demanding to be filled.

  My thighs tightened around his waist and I hissed my frustration, raking my nails across his back.

  He lifted me up again and swung me around. We collided into the vanity. Objects crashed together and rolled around. He swept the surface clean as he deposited me on the top, his mouth never once breaking away from his onslaught of my body.

  "Are you wet for me?” he growled, his fingers delving into my pussy.

  "Oh, God! Yes!” I cried, arching myself into his hand.

  He seized my nipple in his mouth, sucking hard as his fingers plunged in and out of my slick hole. His thumb pressed on my clit, and I growled in frustration, my body quivering with the need for release.

  "Please,” I begged as I unfastened his pants and pushed the material down. “Please don't make me wait any longer."

  He pulled me close and wrapped my calves around his center. In one swift, blurring move, I was lifted and moved back to the bed, and his hard cock was sliding into me.

  He rode me hard, rough, forcefully—and I loved every minute of it. I was panting, then moaning, then screaming as I succumbed to powerful waves of pleasure. He was relentless, forcing me to come over and over again until I was sapped of all strength, too weak to do more than drown in consuming ecstasy.

  His thrusts increased, coaxing one last mind-blowing climax from my
body, leaving us both hot, spent, and gasping for air.

  "That was amazing,” I whispered once I had the breath to do so.

  He rolled us over so that I was now on top of him. “No, it's you who's amazing."

  I smiled and laid my head on his chest, snuggling into the smell of passion and sandalwood. “I'm sorry I was so loud. Sometimes I get so into ... I hope I don't get you into trouble."

  "No, I don't get in trouble. And no, please do not apologize, especially for that."

  "I probably woke the others up."

  He chuckled. “I don't care. They deserve it."

  I lifted my head. “Why?"

  "For all the shit they've been giving me when it comes to you."

  "Like what?"

  "They keep telling me that since you've arrived, I've been wandering around here like a love-sick puppy."

  I broke into laughter. “Have you?"

  He rolled us back over and kissed me soundly. “That, my dear, you'll find out when you hold up your end of the deal.” He rose from the bed and headed toward the door.

  "Wait.” I sat up. “Where you going?"

  "Don't you want dessert?"

  "Don't you want to put some clothes on first?"

  "Why?"

  "Um ... cameras?"

  "There's only one guy on camera duty. He'll live."

  My cheeks grew hot.

  "Are you embarrassed?” he asked in awe.

  "I-I ... no."

  "You are."

  "Yes, I mean, no—everyone obviously knows what we were doing. I'm just...” I took a deep breath, knowing that I was turning redder by the second. “You go ahead. I'll get dressed and meet you out there."

  "You're so beautiful when you blush,” he said softly, as if relating a thought to himself.

  I giggled. “I seem to blush a lot around you."

  "I think you misunderstand my intentions. I'm going to get dessert and bring it back in here. Unless, you're too tired."

  Oh! “No, no. I'm okay."

  "Don't you dare get dressed while I'm gone."

  I nodded. “I won't"

  He came back a few moments later with silverware and a plate of Baklava.

  Sitting next to me on the edge of the bed, he broke off a piece of pastry and put it to my lips. “Try this."

  Opening my mouth, I let place the bite size morsel onto my tongue. It was scrumptious. Swallowing the honey and pistachio layered phyllo, I moaned in appreciation.

  He licked the sticky sweetness off his fingers. “You like it?"

  "Very much. Is this another example of your culinary skills?"

  "Yes,” he said, feeding me another bite.

  "How do you get all the ingredients for the wonderful meals you prepare? There's not a grocery store around here for miles."

  "The same as you do when deployed to a remote location in the military. Some things are airdropped, other times we have to make a food run, mostly whoever leaves next gets a wish list of sorts and they try to bring the items back when they return."

  "But how can that be? My refrigerator has been stocked every week with fresh items."

  He fed me more. “This place is like a revolving door. We're coming and going all the time."

  "Seriously? You all are that active? Everything seems so quiet. I've never even heard a plane fly over or footsteps in the corridor. And I think the most people I've seen here at once was the small group on the roof."

  He smiled, but offered no comment. Instead, he tried to shove more baklava into my mouth.

  I turned away. “Thank you, but please, no more. You're going to put me in a sugar coma."

  Placing the plate on the vanity, he dropped to his knees before me. “If my goddess is done eating,” he said, lifting my leg. “Then it is my turn for desert. And in the process, I have the pleasure of worshiping her body."

  My pussy tingled in anticipation as he kissed his way up to my inner thigh.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Nineteen

  Feeling like someone was staring at me, I opened my eyes.

  "Good morning, gorgeous."

  I blinked at the sunlight filtering in. My captor was sitting on the edge of my bed looking down at me, freshly showered, dressed, and smelling delicious as usual.

  "What are you doing?” I asked.

  "Watching you sleep."

  I rubbed my forehead. God, I was exhausted. “Don't you ever sleep?"

  "I only need a couple of hours. Three, four at most."

  "It's not good to do that to your body,” I offered in my concerned physician tone. “You should rest more."

  Smiling, he took an extra pillow and signaled me to lean forward. “I know. After I leave here, I'm going on a long vacation."

  As I sat up to let him place the cushion behind me, my tired mind finally woke up, joining the here and now.

  Shit, I was still naked.

  I pulled the covers over my breasts as memories of the prior night assaulted me. I'd literally thrown myself at him. What had I been thinking? What must he think of me?

  "Hmm. Morning regrets?"

  His question jerked from my thoughts “What?"

  "Morning regrets? You're blushing again, and you're suddenly being shy.” He stared pointedly at the blanket I had nearly tugged up to my chin.

  More memories.

  More blushing.

  "Oh, no, it's not you. It's me,” I offered awkwardly, waving his concerns off.

  A cliché and corny answer, I know, but I didn't know what else to say.

  The look he gave me said he found the answer inadequate as well.

  "Really,” I continued. “You were amazing. I just..."

  He reached behind him and produced a tray which he placed on my lap. Breakfast. Fruit, yogurt, toast, and juice.

  "Thank you,” I mumbled.

  "Talk to me."

  What did he want me to say? That I was embarrassed for acting like a royal slut?

  I stared at the food.

  I was in love with him. Maybe he was in love with me too, but I couldn't be sure. He never declared it. Either way, the possibility was there and I hated to think he thought less of me because I acted so ... sexually assertive. I had initiated the intimacy for the sole sake of my sexual gratification, true, but I couldn't have done it if I hadn't felt comfortable with him. And after the initial act, the following ones had seemed special, had been special, at least to me. He took such care in my pleasure, made love to my body in a way I had never experienced before, made me feel something deeper than carnal satisfaction.

  Did that mean he really cared for me? Was he just the best lover I'd ever had, or did he love me? And if so, did I ruin things by being so forward? Did he take my lascivious display as a sign that I felt no emotional bond with him? That I was acting on lust alone, using him for my pleasure, that he felt everything and I felt nothing? And did he now have this negative perception of me, that I was not the lady he had come to know over the weeks, but some wonton bitch in heat who often slept with random men whose names she didn't even know?

  "Brenna, how about less thinking and more talking."

  I met his gaze.

  As odd as it might be, my nameless captor was probably the closest thing I'd ever had to a best friend. And even now, the way he stared at me gave me the sudden urge to spill my guts. Somehow, he always found a way to make me open up, make me laugh, make me feel safe, secure, and like I was something special and to be treasured.

  "Last night, the way I acted ... Shit, how do I say this..."

  "Just say what's on your m—"

  "Do you think I'm a slut?” I blurted out.

  Doh! Nice, Brenna. Very classy.

  His eyes shone in humorous disbelief. “If I couldn't see for myself how much you're worried about this, I'd think you were joking with me."

  "You find my question stupid,” I groaned.

  "No, I don't.” He took my hand in his. “And to answer your question—no, I don't. The word ‘
slut’ never entered my mind in connection to you. Passionate, beautiful, amazing—these are the things I think of when I think of you. Last night was indescribable. I couldn't put into words what it meant to me. And you were—are, perfect."

  "I wouldn't say all that,” I whispered.

  He kissed my knuckles. “You're so damn enchanting, incredibly sexy, and I can't get enough of you."

  I pulled my hand back. “You do know I'm in love with you, right?"

  "Yes, but it's always nice to hear it.” His eyes shined bright in the morning light. “And if you'd hurry and complete your half of our bargain, then I could tell you I how I feel."

  "Do I want to know?"

  He shrugged. “Do you?"

  Yes.

  "Tell you now?” I asked.

  "No time like the present."

  "Okay. I lied on my application because I was afraid they wouldn't let me in the enlisted ranks if they knew my medical qualifications. Before I signed up, I called a recruiter on the phone in the guise of a wife getting information for her ‘husband'. After I explained what I, or my husband, did for a living, and what he wanted to do in the military, the recruiter said that it was his duty to place people where they would most benefit the force and that he could not, in good conscious, let my husband's specialized skills be wasted. Not when the military was in need of good medical personnel.” I laughed, recalling the recruiters concern. “He then asked for my husband's contact information so that he might tell him about the large sign-up bonuses doctors were getting, etcetera."

  "You do know that recruiters are like car salesmen. If you're insistent, they usually give you what you want."

  "I know. That's how I got to be a combat medic. I wouldn't sign the enlistment papers unless they could guarantee me that position. But I didn't want to run the risk of ruining my chances by being overqualified."

  He nodded, but said nothing else.

  "I joined the enlisted ranks as a medic because I needed some time away from being a doctor. I love my job. I love helping people. But I was starting to lose confidence in my abilities. I was even ‘bringing my work home with me’ as they say. I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to eat. I was starting to suffer from depression. I was haunted, not by those patients I couldn't help, but by those left behind.